


We are, but we're not

by leliodj



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-04
Updated: 2016-10-15
Packaged: 2018-08-19 12:57:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8209369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leliodj/pseuds/leliodj
Summary: Sometimes, even though all the pieces are, and they fit together perfectly, the picture they make isn't what you hoped it would...





	1. Firsts

"Hi."

That's the first thing I ever said to him. It's nothing original or unique, or even all that interesting, but it was the first time I knew he was paying attention to me.

I'd stalked him online for months before that, I'm not even going to lie. Left silly comments on his YouTube videos, sent flirty tweets he'd sometimes like or maybe reply to. When he did I felt special, like I was the only one he would share an exchange with, but that was just delusional because he replied to loads of people.

But that "hi" I knew would be between only us.

For the next few weeks life became a distraction. All I wanted was to rush home and spend my nights talking to him long into morning hours. I lived for the dumb conversations about music and YouTube, the nonsensical chatter over anime and games, the flirty banter between him and me. I thought maybe I was imagining it, that I was reading too much into his messages. But each time I dared venture into the area of flirtation he followed. Every cheesy line reciprocated, every winky face and kiss imitated, every suggestive action accepted.

So one night, after weeks of beating around the bush, I decided to test my theory.

I started the conversation like I would any other. We made small talk with our usual topics; Muse, Death Note, his latest YouTube video. I waited until we had settled in before clicking the video chat button. I had a mild panic attack as the connecting music seemed to drag on for a second too long before I was presented with his confused face.

"Webcam? This is new," he chuckled, awarding me a goofy smile.

I sat in silence for a minute while I studied his face. Pale, delicate skin, pitch black hair, eyes so blue it's like staring at the ocean. I got so lost taking in every detail I could that I stayed quiet too long, prompting him to question.

"Hello? Can you see me?"

"Y-yeah, yeah, sorry, just lag I guess," I lied. "I just thought this might be easier than typing everything."

"I guess that's tr..." His sapphire eyes widened suddenly. "Dan, why don't you have a top on?!"

At last he noticed! I leaned back to grab my phone, surreptitiously giving him a good view.

"Yeah, it's pretty warm tonight," I lied again. "I can put something on if it bothers you."

"No it's fine," he replied with a cheeky grin. "I quite like the view."

That was the last that was said of it. The rest of the evening consisted of our regular chatter as we both either avoided or enjoyed my nonchalant half-nakedness.

Our Skype nights became a regular thing. After two months it got to the point neither of us would go to bed unless we'd spoken. Sometimes the calls were short and sweet, others went on for hours as we laughed and giggled late into the night. Conversations were so easy. One thing just bled into the next, until before we realised we'd be talking for over four hours!

The regular flirting was also still present, except now instead of an emoji and a 'x', I was treated to a wink and a cheeky grin. Now and again I'd appear in various stages of undress, as did he but much more infrequently. Usually he would make his comment about "enjoying the view" but never anything more, until I thought I'd push boundaries a little one overly hot August evening.

His face popped up on my screen with a beaming smile as always.

"Hey Danny boy." He laughed a little at his own joke; he knew I hated that.

"Shut up, you pleb!" I gasped, in mock offence. "How are things?"

"All fine I guess," he answered. "Hot as hell tonight though. Might have to abandon this shirt before I melt into it."

"I've already beat you to it," I informed him, adjusting slightly to give him a better view of my bare chest.

"I noticed," he said, playfully winking. That's when I let him have it.

"It's so hot here I've had to resort to these."

I moved the laptop to the side, giving him a full view of the fire truck red boxer briefs I was wearing. I hadn't worn them in a while and I'd grown a bit since then, making them that little bit too short and too tight. However, the look on his face was worth the feeling of restricted circulation.

"Wow! Those are... wow..."

I flashed him my best flirty giggle, biting my bottom lip for maximum effect. "You like?"

He nodded. "They're very... tight..."

"I know," I replied. "But they still come off easy."

I slipped my thumb into the waistband and pushed, exposing a little more skin on my behind. I watched his eyes follow the movement, his mouth dropping open slightly. I was going to stop there but his reaction spurred me on until before I realised the boxers were almost around my knees.

There was silence for a moment as we caught each other gaze, before we both erupted into fits of laughter.

"You have a great butt," he said as we finally calmed down.

"Thanks," I replied, slapping a cheek playfully. "Is this weird? Should I put something on?"

"No, no, don't," he answered. "I like seeing all of you."

"There's quite a good bit you haven't seen yet," I quipped, raising my eyebrows suggestively.

He chuckled but shook his head, "Maybe next time."

That was all he said before we carried on with our regular topics of conversation. I decided not to get dressed again, one; because it was actually uncomfortably hot, and two; now and again I caught his eyes trailing along my body, and more than once I seen him fidgeting with something below the camera.

We carried on our Skype sessions as normal for the next few weeks. He'd even convinced me to start making YouTube videos. Long, drawn out chats and witty, flirtatious banter. Now, however, he was starting to initiate the flirting. So much so that one evening after accepting his webcam request, I was treated to an image of him stretched out naked on his bed, a lion plushie strategically protecting his modesty.

"Evening," he greeted, putting on a deep, sexy voice.

After my initial shock, I managed to choke out, "And do what do I owe the pleasure of this?"

He smiled his regular, goofy smile, his faux sexy image dropped. "I thought I'd return the favour from a couple of weeks ago."

"Now I'm not complaining, but you really didn't have to," I told him, whilst letting my eyes devour every bit of him.

"I know. I wanted to."

We were both quiet for a bit. I think he knew I was taking it all in because every so often he would move into a slightly different position whilst keeping his lion plushie intact. After we'd drifted away from the surprise of nakedness and into our usual flow, he told me he had something else to share.

"My parents are going away for a few days soon. I'll be here alone. You should come visit me."

I had thought about jumping on a train to Manchester a hundred and one times since I'd met him but it was just beyond my price range, and I told him so. But he was undeterred.

"That's ok, I'll pay for your ticket," he offered kindly. "And you can stay with me, so you won't have to get a hotel or anything."

I mulled it over in my brain. I did want to meet him, desperately. Not even for sex, just to be around him would be enough. He'd pretty much been all I'd thought about for four months, it was time.

"I'll let you play with my lion," he added, wiggling his eyebrows.

"Ok, I'll come," I said finally.

"Yay!"

He flung his arms in the air, seemingly genuinely happy at my answer. It took him a second to realise his enthusiastic outburst had shifted his lion plushie, giving me a small peek.

So, after weeks of waiting, days of packing and repacking, and some heated conversations with my parents about going to stay with an older man I'd met on the internet, I waited in the cold October morning for my train to arrive. I'd taken particular care with my outfit choice, washed with way too much shampoo, and was checking my reflection in every surface. I was somewhat happy when the train arrived and we finally set off, meaning I could do no more.

I sent him a running commentary of my journey the whole way; the views outside the window, the boring articles in the magazine I bought, the business man in the next row trying to figure out how to open his egg salad sandwich packet.

At around lunchtime, the train pulled in to Piccadilly station. Gathering my belongings, and my nerves, I disembarked, looking for any hint of the man who ruled my thoughts. After less than ten seconds there he was in front of me, in real life not a computer screen. I approached excitedly, catching his eye.

"Dan Howell?" he questioned once I was within earshot.

"Um, yes," I answered, confused.

"Phil Lester."

He extended his hand towards me. I took it, surprised by his sudden formality, before he broke his façade with that goofy smile I'd totally fallen for.

"Come here!"

Without waiting, he pulled me into the best hug I'd ever had. I was instantly intoxicated by the heat from his body, the smell of his aftershave. He was a little taller than me so I let myself fall into him, savouring every second of the embrace. When I finally lifted myself away from him I did feel a little tipsy and giddy from the excitement of the situation.

After some moments of just looking awkwardly at each other he broke the silence. "So, coffee?"

"Coffee," I agreed, if just to end the tension.

He took me from the station and through the streets of Manchester. We found a spot in a Starbucks, sharing casual conversation over our overpriced, overly complicated drinks. When we'd finished he took me on a mini-tour, pointing out the different sights and spots he liked. After a quick stop in the Apple shop, where he had to physically pull me away from all the gorgeous, silver Macs, we settled in Sky Bar enjoying a late lunch while looking out across the city. We sat there all afternoon having our usual chats, but rather than in a screen he was sitting beside me, centimetres away, and pixels didn't do those blue eyes any justice.

We relaxed and watched the city bustle beneath us until the sun started to set. Looking out everything felt crazy romantic. I'd spent the whole afternoon wondering if I could call this a date. We hadn't said as much. We'd never even discussed it. Yes, we flirted like horny teenagers and made stupid, suggestive jokes, but we never put a label on anything. For all I knew he did this kind of thing with all of his friends and nothing was going to happen between us.

Actually it was probably my fault for reading into things too much. I was the one that started all the cheeky banter, he was probably just joining in because it was what he thought I liked. He probably just thinks we're two friends that live far apart finally hanging out.

As those thoughts were flying around my head, pulling a dark cloud over a near perfect day, I felt his hand brush against mine. I steadied myself and pretended not to notice, waiting to see what he'd do next. As if reading my mind, he draped his arm across mine and entwined our fingers, using his thumb to caress the back of my hand lightly.

I tried to hide my smile but I know he saw it.

When the time to leave finally came, he took me by the hand again and led me to the Manchester Eye. We managed to bundle into a pod by ourselves, soaking in the scenery of the city as the sunlight began to fade and the buildings and streets started to illuminate one by one. It was fun watching ourselves being raised further and further above the winding roads and twisting train tracks, higher and higher into the sky. He pointed out more things to me; the best places to eat, his favourite coffee shop, the building he wanted to live in one day, Strangeways prison. The last one made us chuckle.

As the wheel got to its highest point he laced his fingers with mine again. He gave me a little smile as I met his eyes. Taken by the moment, without thinking I leaned in and pressed my lips to his.

He didn't turn away; he didn't push me back. Ever so slightly he leaned into me, deepening the kiss. He gave a small laugh once he'd disconnected our lips and pressed his forehead on mine.

"I was wondering when you'd do that."

"Believe me, I was holding back all day," I told him.

The giant Ferris wheel rounded back upon itself and we hopped off, both grinning from ear to ear. He guided me onto the bus back to his house. It was only a short journey but our hands remained together the whole time. A little way in I worked up the nerve to rest my head on his shoulder, prompting a girl behind us to exclaim down her phone there were two boys on her bus being adorable. That gave us a good giggle. A few minutes later, we were shutting the door to his home behind us.

"Home sweet home," he laughed. "You want anything? A drink? Something to eat?"

"No, I'm fine thanks."

I'd become as nervous as when I got off the train all over again. I stood in his hall trying to take up as little room and be as convenient as possible. He must have realised this because he placed both hands on my shoulders and gave me a quick peck on the lips.

"Relax!" he teased. "The place is ours for the next few days."

I did become more as ease as we lulled around the house, watching movies and talking about the same nonsense we usually do. We sat together on the sofa, pressed against each other, hands entwined for what felt like hours, carefree and comfortable. Eventually, as the time wore on, he stretched out and yawned.

"I think it's time I went to bed."

My heart started to pound.

"Good idea," I said, trying to sound casual. "Getting late."

He offered me his hand again and he lead me up the stairs. At the top I looked around for some sort of sign as to where I should go, and struggled to stop my imagination of what I wanted to happen next take me astray.

"Where should I sleep?" I asked, hoping I didn't sound too presumptuous.

He turned to me, confused. "In here, obviously."

He pushed open the door we'd stopped at to the room I'd only ever seen on the other side of the computer screen. The blue and green wallpaper, matching bedspread, camera on a makeshift tripod of books. It was so new to me, yet made me feel so at ease. It felt like I'd been here so much, like I'd always known it.

I was brought back to reality when he closed the door behind us. We both stood awkwardly for a few minutes, giving each other knowing glances and shy smiles as we understood what was going to happen next.

"I'm, ah, I'm going to undress," he said at last.

"Oh! Should I look away or..."

He shook his head. "No."

Slowly, he began to unbutton his shirt. It became quickly apparent he had nothing underneath. Dropping it on the floor, his hands moved to undo his belt. I think he was purposely making each movement long and drawn out. I shamelessly stared at him as he unbuttoned and unzipped his black skinny jeans, letting them fall slightly before stripping them off his feet along with is mismatched socks. He stood still for a moment, almost naked, as he let my eyes rake over him. When my eyes met his once again, his lips formed a slight smile as he hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his boxers and pushed them down.

I bit my lip as I tried to keep eye contact, but he let out a small laugh and motioned with his eyes for me to look down. So I did.

He was bigger than me, that was for sure. He was bigger than most I'd seen actually. I watched, unblinking, as he lifted his hand and stroked himself lazily, all the while watching my reaction.

"You like?" he asked teasingly.

I nodded. Words failed me. He laughed again and approached me. I'd dreamed of what I would do in this situation many times, but now it was actually happening my body froze. He pressed himself against me, so closely I could feel every part of him. Our lips met, this time much more passionately than before, as manoeuvred my hands to his sides and slid them down to rest on his hips. I shivered feeling the skin-to-skin contact. I felt his mouth form a little smile as we kissed.

As I settled into the situation, I became grossly aware I was very overdressed. Breaking our kiss and taking a step back, I quickly pulled off shirt and tugged my t-shirt over my head before getting to work on my belt and jeans. Unlike him I wasn't trying to be slow and sexy, I was just very adamant I had to be very naked very quickly. A few seconds later, I ungracefully worked my too tight jeans and boxers off my feet and stood opposite him as he tried not to laugh.

"I hope you don't do everything that quickly," he teased.

"Shut up," I shot back, moving forward and connecting our lips again.

His hands explored my body as his tongue explored my mouth. Every now and then his fingers would linger on certain areas but eventually they came to rest on my behind, which he used to push our bodies closer together.

Just like our first hug earlier in the day, I was drunk on the warmth of his body. Taking cue from him, I allowed my hands to trek all over his body, even being brave enough to let my fingers graze his length pressed between us.

Our lips broke apart again, both of us panting for air. Carefully, he guided me backwards onto his bed, positioning himself on his knees above me. He moved his eyes down my body, taking in every detail. Licking his lips, he met my eyes again.

"Can I taste you?"

I nodded.

He started at my jaw, kissing and licking his way down to my neck, leaving the marks that would give us away tomorrow. He descended on my chest, his fingers, lips, and tongue giving me pleasure in ways I never knew they could. He lingered around my nipples, teeth grazing lightly. I tried to stifle a moan but he was one step ahead of me, biting a little harder.

"Let it out," he whispered into my skin. "I want to hear you."

That was all the invitation I needed. Every action as he moved down my navel was accompanied by mewls and whimpers, until suddenly I was in his mouth. My hips bucked upwards into the surprise warmth as my throat let out an ungodly moan of his name. He'd definitely done this before. His lips and tongue expertly worked in tandem, sending waves of pleasure crashing through my body. His head moved up and down, getting steadily lower each time until he could go no further, forcing my hands to clutch at his sheets. His own hands also never rested. They moved along my body sending shivers up my spine. And now he could certainly hear me; I was sure most of Manchester could with the noises he was causing me to make.

As sudden as the warmth was there, it was gone again as his face returned to view, kissing me deeply once again. I didn't care I could taste myself on him; it even turned me on a little.

"So... good..." was all I could manage to utter when he released my lips.

He laughed. "Just one of my many skills."

Silently, I hoped I'd get to find out the others.

"How are your skills?" he asked, biting his lip.

"Maybe we should find out."

We switched positions. He was lying under me. I took in the sight as I trailed my hand down his chest to his belly button, and slightly lower. I planted a kiss on his hip and moved towards my goal. The size, coupled with the fact I had no idea what I was doing, was daunting. Conjuring up images from the many adult videos I'd watched, I made my move.

Taking the base in my hand, I kissed the underside and glided my tongue to the tip. This earned me a throaty groan. Deciding to follow his approach, I wrapped my lips around him and took in as much as I could. Slowing bobbing my head up and down, I tried to copy the actions his tongue had performed on me, but to no avail. I fee like  he knew I was out of my depth as his fingers snaked into my hair, helping to guide me to a pace he liked. Once I tried to take him all as he'd done to me. Although he gasped and bucked his hips, I was reduced to a gagging mess and had to stop.

"It's ok," he said, bringing my face back up to him. "I know it's kind of big."

Any other man I would have thought that was just a boast, but he was purely being honest.

"No, it's not that," I admitted. "I mean, yeah it is, but it's just I haven't... I've never..."

"What?" he questioned.

I sighed. "I've never had... with a... boy... before..."

If I got points for making him laugh, I was well on my way to a jackpot. He chuckled and stroked my face, giving me that goofy smile that made my stomach flip.

"Aw, Dan!"

I really liked it when he said my name.

"That's completely ok. We don't have to do anything else if you don't want to."

"Oh no, I WANT to, believe me!" Great, I was making myself sound like a nymphomaniac. "I just don't really know how to..."

He laughed again. Even I smiled a little at the situation.

"You're so precious," he said at last, giving me another peck on the lips. "Are you sure you want to?"

I nodded vigorously. "Dear god yes! But just... go easy on me..."

He smiled and kissed me again, a little longer than before.

We reversed positions again. I was on my back, legs spread, and mildly embarrassed. He was digging something out of the bedside table; a foil packet and a small bottle. Cracking open the bottle, he coated his fingers in its contents and positioned them between my legs.

"Tell me if it hurts at all and I'll stop, ok?"

It did hurt, a little bit. But I didn't tell him.

It was a strange feeling. Painful yet satisfying. My mind just about adjusted to having someone touch such an intimate place before a glorious feeling shot through my body. My mouth spat obscenities by its own will, and my hands grabbed handfuls of the bedsheets. He gave me a wicked smile and continued, placing all his attention in that spot, adding another finger. The pain increased, but so did the pleasure. Every small movement reduced me to a quivering mess on his bed, and he enjoyed it.

I opened my eyes to find him tearing open the foil packet with his teeth and free hand. Carefully, he removed himself from me, rolled on the condom, and coated his length with the bottle. My heart started to thud in my chest has he lifted my legs and maneuvered himself nearer to me. Locking eyes with me, he pushed.

I couldn't keep my eyes open as he slid into me. It hurt, bad. But there was nothing to be done about it I knew. He stopped when he was a little inside, letting me get used to the feeling. After a few moments I nodded consent and he entered further.

He developed a rhythm both of us could work with. With each thrust the pain was lessening and the pleasure expanding. Both of us were moaning and grunting, repeating each other's name over and over. His hands found my own arousal and began rocking back and forth with our own motions. My moans became louder, panting intensified. Every movement was giving my body endless enjoyment.

I couldn't last long, not like that. I felt my climax building. I think he could feel it too. He started thrusting harder, stroking more vigorously.

"Phil, I'm about to... I'm gonna..."

My orgasm tore through me like a freight train. My hips shot up on their own. My throat rattled out a long, contorted growl. The feeling radiated through my body, propelled onward by every thrust inside me, until slowly it began to dissipate.

He removed his hand from me and began to slow his thrusts.

"No, don't stop!" I begged him. "Inside me, please..."

He nodded, building up momentum again. Each time he slid inside me my body jolted in renewed pleasure. Then, as his thrusts intensified, he let out a deep moan with one last buck inside me. With the high slowly fading, he dropped down on top of me, undeterred by the mess on my stomach.

We lay there together as our breathing starting to return to normal.

"Phil, that was..." The end of my sentence got lost in the air.

He gave a little laugh. "Yeah, it was."

I don't know how long we lay like that, gazing into each other's eyes. The next thing I knew I blinked and it was morning. We'd somehow moved. He lying on his back, his arm wrapped around me as I lay my head on his chest. I had vague memories of cleaning up, shuffling around, and one last, long kiss.

"You're awake."

His voice startled me a bit.

"Did you sleep ok?" he asked, his thumb rubbing my back lightly.

"I slept great," I told him. "You?"

He smiled. "Best sleep I had in a long time. You want some breakfast?"

"Maybe later," I answered. "I just want to stay like this for now."

I wanted to stay like that forever, an eternity in a perfect moment with him.


	2. The most fun I've ever had

We stayed in bed long into the afternoon, naked and tangled, sharing sheets and secrets. He told me about how everyone always thought of him as ‘the strange guy’, the solace making videos had given him, his love for the few true friends he has. I told him how I always kept myself isolated, used humour to hide pain, my hopes of finding someone who could see through it.

We talked about our families. His parents and older brother were always there for him, in any way he needed them. They had always been close. Nothing was ever expected of him, and nothing was forced upon him. They let him be open and honest to who he was, every quirk and oddity readily accepted. I never had that with my parents. I love them, and my little brother, and I always will, but for as long as I can remember there’s been a distance between us. My quirks were never welcomed, but questioned and scrutinised. They were never purposely cruel; in fact, they probably never knew they were being that way, but I still kept myself at arm’s length. It hurt less that way.

That’s why I hadn’t come out to my family. I thought I never would. The one thing I’d done that seemed to warrant silent approval was get a girlfriend. Of course, that was before I’d realised my attractions didn’t lie solely with the opposite sex. His family couldn’t be more different. Before he’d even broached the subject of liking boys, his brother had told him a male friend of his brother’s fancied him and wanted to ask him out. When he did come home one evening holding a boy’s hand, it wasn’t dismissed or brushed off as a ‘phase’, but respected and nurtured.

He told me about some of the people he’d been with. His uni years had been a time when he let himself do whatever with whoever, whenever and wherever. His first time had been with a boy. They’d gotten drunk on cheap cider in a park not far from where he lived. Hidden under a sheltered slide to disguise their underage boozing, the other boy produced a condom from his back pocket. Two tipsy virgins entered the park, but it was drunken fuck buddies that went home.

I figured from his stories that while he liked both, he tended to preference boys. My only experience before him had been with a girl. I told him about the two-year relationship and how it had fizzled out around the time I started to notice him. 

“First love?” he questioned.

“I used to think so,” I answered, honestly.

“Used to?”

He had made me question what ‘love’ really was. Before meeting him I thought I’d been in love. But I never once felt with her how being with him made me feel. 

I brushed it off. “I don’t think I was into her as much as I thought I was.”

His fingers played absentmindedly with my hair as my head rested against his bare chest. We lay on our backs, watching the clouds pass through the sky light in the ceiling. Now and then we’d hear a car passing or see a plane streak through the blue, the only signs that a world existed beyond the two of us in this little room.

“What about you?” I asked.

“What about me?” he mocked. I could hear him smiling.

“Your first love.”

He let out a long sigh. It was like music to me. “I don’t think I’ve ever been in love.”

It made me sad to hear him say that. In the time I’d known him, one thing that stood out about him was the tremendous amount of love he had to give for everything. I didn’t imagine that he hadn’t found someone to pour that emotion into.

“Really? You didn’t feel love for any of those people you were with?”

He shifted beneath me.

“What I had with a lot of them was just sex,” he said. “I don’t see why sex has to be so deep and meaningful. It’s something we do that feels good. Why do people have to over complicate it?”

Something inside me died a little.

I sat up and turned to face him. “Is that what you think of me too?”

He pushed himself up, his face stopping inches from mine. “No.”

I stared deep into those soft blue eyes, eyes I’d come to associate with everything good in my life. I believed him.

“You and me, yeah, I think we can be something,” he said, taking my face in his hand. “And what happened yesterday, and last night, might be the start of something great. But why does that have to change what we did? You made me feel good, and I hope I did the same for you. If I tell you nothing’s going to happen with us, does that change how you felt in that moment?”

He’d never talked to me like this before. It threw me off; I couldn’t get my thoughts straight. I guess it sort of made sense. What happened last night was amazing, I’ll never forget it, but did I need some kind of deeper connection to validate what we’d already done? If I needed that then surely I would have waited until we had that bond before we did it, wouldn’t I?

He could see the thoughts racing in my mind, the gears ticking over. His eyes scanned my face, looking for any hint of a conclusion. I gave him a small smile.

“I guess you’re right,” I uttered at last.

He returned my smile, and kissed me as a reward. I don’t think he knew I was lying.

“We can be two friends that have had sex,” I reasoned. “If something else develops with that then I suppose that’s great too.”

He seemed happy with my answer, even if I wasn’t completely honest.

We didn’t bring it up the rest of the day. Instead, we finally got out of bed. I took a minute to admire his body in a non-sexual context. His skin was pale, milky white, a deep contrast with his pitch black hair. His shoulders were broad and his chest strong, a little patch of hair in the centre. His wide, almost feminine hips stood atop his long legs. His lips formed a cheeky smirk when he saw my eyes rest on his more intimate places. 

“Come on, let’s get some breakfast,” he said, checking his watch. “Or, actually, maybe lunch.”

We spent the rest of the afternoon in comfy pyjamas, stretched on his sofa, watching films and eating junk food. As I laid there against him, crying over Wall-E and munching Doritos, I thought nothing in the world could be more perfect.

We barely moved from our little piece of paradise as the night drew in around us. Snuggled up under a blanket he returned with on a ‘get more snacks’ trip, he started playing with his phone, chuckling to himself every so often.

“What?” I asked, trying to twist my head to see his screen.

“Ok, I may have a surprise for you,” he said coyly. “I asked people on Twitter to send me questions for us to answer in a video.”

“Well that is so happening!” I grinned, snatching his phone and scrolling through some of the questions. They were ridiculous, flirtatious, and hilarious. This was going to be so much fun.

Movie marathon abandoned, we rushed back upstairs to his room and tidied ourselves up. We scrolled through more questions, picking out some random and outlandish queries and requests, laughing ourselves silly. After deciding on a handful, I jotted them on a piece of paper as he set up his makeshift studio in the corner of his room.

We gathered ourselves in front of the camera, questions ready, and hit record. Giggling like moronic children, we worked our way through the silliest of questions. Would he rather lose his leg or his nose? How do rabbits get protein? Ninjas or pirates? His face lit up when I asked “Why do you always make cat whiskers on your face?”.

He jumped up and dug around his desk, his eyes hunting for something very specific. His face broke into his goofy smile as he presented me with a sharpie pen.

“Sit still,” he said, dropping down opposite and raised the pen to my face. Biting his tongue as he drew, he leaned back after a minute and laughed to himself. “So cute.”

I looked at myself, and my newly drawn whiskers, in the camera viewfinder. During his laughing session, I snatched the sharpie from him. “Your turn!” I held him as I drew a matching set on his face. Now we were both laughing. I wondered briefly if sharpie fumes caused hysteria.

When we finally calmed down, we continued our way through the questions, complete with our new facial decoration. What does a giraffe sound like? Would he eat ham every day for a million pound? Is his house still haunted? After touring his house, making fun of his crappy GHDs, and calling his mum a prostitute in French, followed by a little play fight turned make out session on his bed, we stumbled upon a question that gave us pause.

“May I stroke your glabella?” I asked, trying, and failing, to suppress a laugh.

“What’s a glabella?” he questioned, as clueless as I was.

“Let’s find out what a glabella is,” I said to the camera while he got up to fetch his laptop.

“I hope it’s another word for ‘penis’,” he joked, giving me a cheeky glance. “You can definitely stroke that!”

I slapped him lightly on the shoulder as he sat back down. “Shut up, you sex pest.”

After a quick Google, we found out the glabella is ‘the space between the eyebrows and above the nose’, admittedly disappointing us both.

“I kind of wish it did mean penis now,” I teased once we’d shown the camera the unreadable diagram on the computer and did a little cheesy end screen with hand-hearts. “Even so, this was the most fun I’ve ever had.”

I’d just about finished the sentence when he jumped, flinging his arms around me, and pushing me back to the ground. I let out a small giggle once I’d gotten over the shock. We stayed like that for a minute, enjoying the closeness before his face took on a sly smile.

“You know, in the dictionary of AmazingPhil,” he began, a look of pure deviousness in his eyes. “The glabella is the space between the legs and beneath the belly button.”

He grabbed my crotch, applying a little pressure to accent his intensions. I bit my lip to hold back a moan which made his smile widen.

“Maybe we should repeat the question with your dictionary then,” I said, a definite strain in my voice as he kept palming me through my jeans. “May I stroke your glabella?”

“You may.”

He grabbed my wrist with his free hand and guided it to his growing bulge. I copied the movements he did to me, grabbing and rubbing with enough pressure to make him groan a few times. I leaned over, kissing him deep. His free hand found its way up under the fabric of my t-shirt. His touch was electric on my skin. He purposely moved slowly, letting his fingers draw circles on my stomach, leaving winding patterns trailing up my chest. He eventually found his target. He took a nipple in his fingers, lightly pinching. He smiled into the kiss when he heard the sound I made.

“You make the best noises,” he whispered against my lips. 

“Clearly you love it,” I whispered back, giving the hardness in his crotch an extra squeeze for emphasis.

His throat made a little growl, I think involuntarily, as a devious smile crossed his face. “I think you should put that smart mouth of yours to better use.”

That was all the invitation I needed. Untangling ourselves, we climbed onto the bed. He propped himself up against the wall, pillow at his back, and looked at me expectantly. He was waiting for me to take control this time. His cheeky smirk and ‘come hither’ eyes said it all without a word between us. 

So I did as I was told.

I brought my hands back to the bulge in the black jeans, undoing the button and zip with more care than was necessary. He raised his hips to let me pull them down. His underwear came with them, his hardening length breaking free. I locked eyes with him as I took him in my hand, long, deliberate strokes. After my pitiful attempt the previous night, I was determined to perform better. I took my time, letting him get to full growth as my free hand explored; across his hips, over his thighs, lightly massaging his balls. I still couldn’t believe his size.

As I began to increase the speed of my movements, I watched him unbutton his shirt, biting his bottom lip as he spread it open for me. His hands slid up from his navel to his nipples, where his fingers played, eliciting little moans while is eyes fluttered. His large length twitched in my hand.

“You like it when people touch your nipples?” I asked, trying my best to make my voice low and sexy.

“I like it when I do it,” he answered with a smirk. “Other people do it wrong, too rough. I'll show you how sometime.”

I gave him my best sex-worthy smile. He was hoping this would happen again. 

He let out a sigh and rolled his head back. I took this as my chance. Without warning I sunk down and wrapped my lips around him. There was a sharp intake of breath as his hips bucked forward. My tongue slid along him as he moved back and forth in my mouth. I did my best not to gag when he got to the back of my throat. A hand snaked into my hair, holding me steady as he inched himself as far as he could go. With no other option, I tried to swallow and he slipped into my throat. 

I heard him swear when his hand took a fistful of my hair, letting go and sliding out of my mouth a second later.

“Oh my god,” he breathed, while I spluttered and my eyes watered. “You didn’t tell me you could deepthroat.”

I wiped the tears from around my eyes. “I didn’t know I could.”

We both laughed, but he kept his lustful gaze on me. “Could you do it again?”

I did. I let him slide into my mouth again and again. I got better at holding the gagging at bay as we went along. I was actually starting to like the feeling when he hit the back of my throat before he pushed that little bit further and his voice let out a deep moan. Both his hands had found their way into my hair, occasionally grabbing fistfuls roughly, which I also liked. 

However, what I really liked was I could make him swear when I did it. He didn’t swear too often, even in regular chat. But every time I swallowed hard around him I was treated to a chorus of expletives. That made me proud.

But all good things must come to an end. After a few minutes I sat up and took in some well-deserved air. He was panting too, lazily rubbing his nipples, stood at full attention. 

“You’re so good at that,” he groaned. 

“Thanks,” I chuckled. “I think my throat is paying the price now.”

It had been fun turning him into a sweaty, swearing mess but the scratchy feeling starting in my throat probably meant I should take a break. I leaned back against the wall behind me, taking in the side view of him leisurely touching himself. My own hand moved to my crotch, palming myself through my jeans.

“Take them off,” he said, following my motions.

I obeyed. Doing my best to be as sexy as possible, I pulled my t-shirt over my head, throwing it on the floor before working off my jeans and boxers, leaving myself fully exposed on front of him. He started to laugh.

“What?” I questioned, suddenly worried I’d done something stupid. He just continued to laugh.

“What is it?” I whined, slapping him on the thigh. “What did I do?”

“No, not you,” he managed to reply once he calmed down. “I just realised we still have these stupid whiskers on!”

Suddenly, the childish black lines I’d drawn on his face became immediately obvious. Now, the two of us began to laugh. 

“Oh god!” I exclaimed, once I had my breath back. “I guess that makes us furries now.”

His reply came in the form of an exaggerated ‘meow’. I slapped him again. “Stop it!”

He pulled me on top of him as we fell apart laughing again. It was so easy for us to do. One silly comment or unintentional innuendo and we went to pieces. It was so easy. He made it all so easy.

Somewhere in the laughter we became tangled in each other. My hand found his manhood again, stroking it back to life. Even at semi he was almost bigger than me.

“You’re so big,” I told him, before I could stop myself.

He just shrugged. “Gets the job done, I guess.”

“That’s a massive understatement.”

He gave me his ‘a joke, really?’ face. I giggled. “No pun intended.”

“One guy I hooked up with once got a bit obsessed with it,” he said. “Used to come over all the time, get me to watch porn and wank while he watched, then he’d ‘clean me up’.”

“Oh god, that sounds… well, it sounds pretty hot, to be honest,” I admitted. 

“It was, I suppose. A girl I slept with a few times always got me to do that thing where I put it between her boobs,” he told me, a slight grimace on his face. “I think she thought I really liked it because I wound up blowing the first time she did it. But that was after we’d been messing around for ages.”

“I tried that once with my ex,” I laughed, remembering my own failure. “Got a bit too eager and poked her in the eye.”

He laughed with me. His hand found its way to my behind, resting on my cheek.

“Do you like doing stuff with girls?” he asked.

“Only ever been one girl,” I answered honestly. “Yeah, I suppose I liked doing stuff with her, but I like doing stuff with you too. How about you?”

“I can have sex with girls and enjoy it, but I enjoy this more,” he said, squeezing my ass.

His hand shifted, and I felt his fingers playing at my entrance.

“What do you do differently, you know, when you get with a boy or a girl?” I asked him.

“Boys are easy,” he told me with a smile. “You know you’ve got them because you can see it in their trousers. After that I just let my hands do the work.”

His finger pressed harder at my most intimate part, bringing his point home. My eyes fluttered a little as a let out a breath. 

“But girls need work,” he continued. “It’s slow; lots of exploring. I start with their lips.”

He rolled us over so I lay flat on the bed while he hovered over me. But he kept my legs spread, and his fingers where they were, lightly touching. With his free hand he took my chin and brought my lips to his. It was different this time, he was provocative. His teeth grazed my bottom lip and his tongue was light and soft. When he pulled away, he bit my lip gently.

“Next, I move down, but always exploring.”

He kissed along my jaw, down the sensitive spots on my neck, small nips of teeth immediately followed tender kisses. He’s hand mapped the path his mouth followed down my chest.

“I take my time here,” he whispered into my skin, his fingers teasing one of my nipples. “Lots of attention, and lots of reward.”

His mouth was on my other nipple before he’d finished. He was a pro; sucking gently, biting softly, tongue caressing any sensitive area. Any chance I had at dignity was gone. I was a howling mess. As quick as a flash, he had switched sides, leaving one overly sensitive pink nub exposed to the sudden cold air. I think that was all part of it.

“By now she’s almost mine,” he said, slowly moving lower. “But you mustn’t stop. There’s more fun to be had.”

His tongue swiped over my belly button. A feeling much more pleasurable than I would have thought. 

“Before you get them to that place…”

He continued making his way down.

"…where they’re begging…”

The blood rushed between my legs, anticipating his next move.

“…to have my huge cock pounding inside them…”

The sudden swearing made my body twitch. All part of his plan.

“...my tongue…”

He manoeuvred his arms under my thighs.

“…has one more place…”

Without warning, his arms lifted my hips level with his face.

“…to explore.”

His tongue moved deliberately, sending sparks up my body and a long moan out of my mouth. He traced along my entrance, teasing anywhere that made me make more noise. My voice was a constant stream, changing pitch when he changed direction. He pushed deeper and deeper, his face buried, until suddenly his tongue was inside.

“Fuck me!” I yelled, the feeling pushing me over the edge. “Fuck me like you just said!”

“And how did I say it?” he asked, before resuming his oral assault on my body.

“Pounding… inside m-me,” I choked out between moans.

He gave a displeased groan, making my whole body spasm. He wanted me to say it.

“Fuck me with your huge cock!”

My hips lowered and his face returned to view, grinning from ear-to-ear. “All you had to do was ask.”

He reached over me to his bedside table, fishing a condom from the drawer. In seconds, he was pressed against me. Seconds later, he was inside me.

He was true to his word. This time there was no waiting. He pushed himself in as far as he could, and began to thrust back and forth. I wrapped my legs around his waist, willing him deeper. I wanted all of him. 

“You want it bad tonight,” he panted.

I nodded, unable to speak. 

“Ok then.”

In an instant, he was gone. Sudden emptiness. I looked up to find him lying back against the wall, that expectant look on his face once again.

You want it, come get it.”

In the space of a few minutes, he’d totally changed. The boy I’d been talking to for months, the boy who held hands with me in the Manchester streets, the boy who made my first times with him so special, was gone. Instead there was a man, a man who knew he could make people yearn for him, beg for him, do anything for him. A man who knew how to make a person’s body want every inch of him.

And I was no exception.

Picking myself off my back, I crawled over to him, knelt above his lap, and lowered myself on to him.

We stared into each other as I moved up and down on him, savouring every second, halting only to grind myself into his hips. His hands moved to my sides, helping to guide me along his length. More than once he found that sweet spot inside me that made me throwback my head and yell is name. As we found a rhythm, his hands snaked up my chest and to my nipples. Gentle brushes, tweaks, pinches, sending my body into over drive. I see what he meant about others doing it wrong.

Soon, one hand moved lower, tracing down my body. He wrapped my manhood, stroking in time with my movements. 

“Do you want to cum for me?” he asked, his voice deep with lust.

I nodded, words failed me.

He shook his head. “Tell me.”

“I do… I want to…” was all I could say.

“Tell me!”

“I want to cum!” I half screamed. “I want you to make me cum! Please!”

His hand moved faster on my length. His fingers probed my nipple harder. His hips started to thrust up in time with me. In moments, I was undone.

I let out a strangled moan as the pleasure surged through me and I emptied myself onto his stomach. My vision blacked out for a second while his hand kept moving, riding out the last throws of orgasm. My head lulled forward, sight returning, greeted with his grinning face. Without a word, he lifted his hand from me and brought it to his mouth. I watched as his tongue licked the remains of my climax from his fingers. 

“Tasty?” I enquired, my sassiness returning to normal levels.

“Very,” he answered, winking. “My turn now.”

I lifted myself off him and settled down by his side to watch. He peeled of the condom, chucked it in the bin, and got to work on himself, one hand at his chest, the other at his crotch. I watched him while he watched me, mutual porn. His eyes raked over my body, his mouth was slightly open, soft moans coming now and then. His fist worked his length the way he liked while his free hand teased a nipple. I lifted a hand to the other. He nodded approval and I mimicked what he’d done to me minutes before. His breathing increased.

I saw it building in his body. One by one his muscles tensed, his hand moved faster, eyes squeezed shut, mouth opened wider. He moaned my name. A moment later his body jerked, and he released. It went on a few seconds, his hand still moving, steadily slowing. I watched the feeling fade from his face. He opened his eyes again and gave me that goofy smile I loved.

Then I remembered what he’d said before. Without stopping to think, I lowered myself to his stomach, and licked.

The first taste was strange. Salty, slightly bitter, slimy texture, but not completely unpleasant. I licked all I could on his stomach, moving on to his hand, before lapping along his softening length. He gasped a few times before I’d finished. When I sat back up he gave me a look.

“What?” I asked. “I wanted to.”

He laughed and hauled himself off the bed, dragging me behind him to the shower to wash off the cat whiskers.


End file.
